The Next Phantom
by WorldTravelingDancer
Summary: Jacqueline finds herself in Erik's house with his great-grandson, Tristan. Tristan teaches her to sing but immediately afterwards, he is attacked and bad luck follows the pair. Can their love survive? Rated T to discourage younger readers. Please R&R!
1. Change of Scenery

**Disclaimer: I own only my ideas and my imagination. ******

My day started out rainy and cold. Unlike most of you reading this, I absolutely LOVE rainy and cold! It brightens my day (no contradiction intended)! I was reading The Phantom of the Opera in my room when some men barged into my room and grabbed me. They put a cloth over my nose and I blacked out. I don't know how long I was out. All I know is that I was in my room reading one minute and the next, I was on the bank of an underground river.

I sat up and looked around. No one was there that I could see and there was no exit in sight. I was stuck in this mud hole for however long it took me to get out. I did what I didn't want to do. I screamed bloody murder. The only effect was that my voice echoed off the walls (I didn't know there were any) and bounced back at me. I freaked out.

I may be a teenage girl but I usually don't act like a ditzy blonde one! I admit I have blonde moments but I'm not a screaming type. I digress.

I stood up in the mud and walked my way along the river for who knows how long! When I got tired, I stopped, and then I would start again. I did this for hours maybe. I really don't know. When you're scared and in a strange place, time doesn't seem to apply.

I stopped for the last time on a rock near the water. I could faintly see a door on the other side of the river. There was a boat on the opposite side so I would be forced to swim across. I didn't really want to swim seeing how the water was as clear as mud, but it was my only hope of getting out of the dark, gloomy, subterranean chasm.

As I started to cross the eerily still lake, I heard the most beautiful sound. I didn't think it was a voice or instrument. It didn't sound like anything I'd ever heard. It was lilting and melodic but also dark and fearsome. I was so entranced that I didn't notice a hand that gripped my ankle until it pulled me under. I didn't scream or lash out because the hand that was killing me brought me closer to the sound. I blacked out (again, I know).

When I woke up, I was lying on a strange bed. It was beautiful but not mine. The room was gorgeous. There was a finely carved mahogany desk across the room, a nightstand near my head, and a chair on the adjacent wall. A wardrobe was next to the desk. There was a door near the chair but it didn't lead out of the room. I found it led to the bathroom (which was good since I smelled like sewage!).

After I had taken a bath, (I'm quite slow at processing some things) I tried to figure out where I was. I thought I would be dead because of drowning but apparently I wasn't. I was in a door-less room with no window or any way of getting out. I was stuck here until someone either broke down a wall or found a different way to let me out.

 I was flinging my flip-flop at the ceiling when he came in. I didn't really pay attention to him because I was making what seemed like a world record.

"Wait just a minute and then I'll talk to you," I told him, still flinging my flip-flop. "Two thousand! Yes! That SO has to be a world record in flip-flop flinging! Ok. What am I supposed to do, Erik?" I asked as I rolled over on the bed to look at him.

"I am not Erik," the non-Erik man said.

"Then who are you? What do you want? What am I supposed to be doing down here?"

"Easy, easy. I'm the man who owns the bed you're on, I want what I want, and you're supposed to be listening to me down here. There. I answered your questions so now you can answer mine. Would you like to learn how to sing?"

"You didn't answer my questions very well," I stated as I began flinging my flip-flop again.

"I answered them truthfully but I admit they weren't the answers you wanted," he said as he gracefully caught my shoe mid-fall. "Now please try and be cooperative."

"I'll need that back for when I go. I can't walk around the airport in one shoe. "

He grinned. "Please answer my question. Would you like to learn how to sing or not?"

"Do you mean 'Would I like to sing well?' then yes. But first you must answer my question. What is your name?"

"Jacqueline, my name is Tristan. I am the great-grandson of Erik and Christine. I have a scarring on the right side of my face. I do not have a Death's Head or glowing eyes. I have Erik's music talent. By the way, it was my voice you heard when you tried to swim across my lake, which was very rude. Also, I-"

"Your lake looks more like a river. Why didn't you come get me with your boat when you heard me screaming? It would have saved me an awful lot of water in my lungs," I told Tristan. I wasn't mad but I did want to make my feelings known.

"As I was saying, I am wearing a flesh mask. Technology is quite lovely when it comes to masks. I look normal and I am not criticized when I go out in public. I am a well respected benefactor of the Opera Populaire. I am also known as the descendent of the great Opera Ghost or Phantom of the Opera, Erik. I am currently writing a book about his life as my grandfather told it to me. Anything else you want to know?"

"Not really. You just overloaded my brain with information."

"One more thing. I am not going to lock you in your room. I put a handle on the hidden door for you. You are free to come and go throughout the house as you please. You are only restricted from my room. There are clothes in the wardrobe for you, all modern clothes. We are in the twenty-first century after all. I wear modern clothes as well, as you can see." And I could! He was wearing a pair of khaki slacks, a light blue silk shirt, and black penny loafers. This was a trendy man!

"By the way, how old are you?" I asked.

"Twenty. You?"

"Eighteen. I'm almost a sophomore in college. How do you go to college if you live down here?"

"I'm out of college. I graduated two years ago."

"You just made me feel so stupid. Way to boost my self-esteem!" I joked.

"I'm sorry!" He looked hurt. Well now I knew he wasn't going to consciously hurt me.

"I was joking, Tristan. There are NO self-esteem issues here!" I said as I pointed to myself.

"Oh. Why don't you come see the rest of the house? It's pretty cool if I do say so myself!"

"Tristan. I just noticed something. I can understand you!"

"Yes. Your point?"

"I speak English. We're in France. You speak French. How can I understand you?"

"Jack, if I may call you that, it's not that difficult to figure out. I learned English in school. I knew you only spoke English so I decided to learn it. Now can we please start your tour?" Tristan smiled. I loved his smile. "The room you're in now was originally for Christine Daae as you probably know from your reading."

"You sure know a lot about me."

"Yes I do. I was one of the men who watched you around your town and took you here. Don't you recognize me somewhat?" I did. He had been wearing different clothes with a different hair color and stature but Tristan was definitely the man who put the cloth over my face.

"Now as I was saying, Christine Daae originally occupied this room. Her clothes are in the drawers of the wardrobe beneath your clothes. Her wedding dress is even in there." We walked out of the room (I noticed the beautiful handle of the hidden door) and into the hall.

The first door we came to was made of solid steel. "This door leads to the torture chamber. Erik 'redecorated' it after Christine married him. She wanted a parlor for guests. I don't know if anyone besides her, Erik, and the Daroga ever came to this room while Erik lived here. The parlor is for your use. You may keep belongings in there, write letters, or work on your homework. There is a telephone in there as well." Tristan saw my perplexed face. "My father had it put in so he could talk to his overseas relatives from his own home. You may call home whenever you like. It's not like I'm cutting you off from civilization!" He chuckled while I burst out laughing.

"I was expecting to be cut off here! It's just like a vacation now!" I exclaimed. I could barely breathe from laughing so hard.

"I like your laugh," Tristan said, suddenly serious.

"Thank you. I like your smile so please smile now. You look too serious," I babbled. I sometimes do that when I'm uncomfortable. Tristan smiled which put me at ease.

"The next door is to the library." Tristan opened the huge French doors and I swear there were angels singing "AHHHHHHH!" The library was a big as a public library. The shelves went up to the very tall ceiling with rolling ladders around the room. I walked in, star struck.

"Are all of these yours?!"

"Yes. You may 'check one out' whenever you like."

For probably twenty minutes, I walked around, feeling the books' spines. Some titles were in French, others in English, and some in Latin I think. As I was about half way through the room, I heard Tristan chuckling.

"What? Am I drooling?" I joked.

"No. I'm just marveling over how entranced you are by the books. I don't know if I've ever met anyone so fascinated by books as I am. It's nice," Tristan said. Again, he was too serious. In his gaze, I felt as if he could see my soul.

"Smile."

"You don't like it when I'm serious?"

"No I do. It's just that your gaze makes me feel as if you can see my soul." Whoa. I hadn't ever been so open about my feelings. This was strange but in a nice way. I liked it.

"Maybe I can," he joked, smiling. My heart melted. "We'll come back later. Now to the kitchen." We made our way out the French doors and across the hall. There was no door, just a big archway into the kitchen. The kitchen was set up with the latest appliances, marble countertops, a mahogany dining table, and a cabinet filled with china dishes. "Those dishes were Christine's. She brought them here when she married Erik," Tristan explained. The walls were painted in a tan-gold color with beautiful writing around the edges.

"What does that say?" I asked. The most prominent writing was above the arch.

"'Mai Dieu bénisse ceux qui entrent et donner la paix à ceux qui quittent.' In English, 'May God bless those who enter and give peace to those who leave.' The phrase was an idea of mine. I am a Christ-follower. What do you believe?"

"The same. I like the phrase. It's almost more beautiful in French," I said.

"Jack, vous êtes plus belle que les fleurs qui fleurissent dans les prés et le chatoiement de neige sur les sommets." Tristan was looking seriously at me again as he said this.

"What did you just say?" I asked, my heart fluttering.

"You will not like it."

"Try me."

"Alright. Jack, you are more beautiful than the flowers that bloom in the meadows and the shimmering snow on the mountaintops." Tristan stiffened as if he was expecting me to hit him. I smiled. He looked quizzically at me.

"Thank you." I reached up hugged him around his neck, resting my head against his shoulder. "That was beautiful," I said as I cupped his right cheek.

"You do know that the cheek you're touching is the one with the deformation, right?" He whispered in my ear as he cautiously put his arms around me.

"I know." I stood back and smiled. "I'm going to like it here!"


	2. Votre Ennemi

**Disclaimer: I own only my ideas and my imagination. ******

"Tristan, how am I going to go to college when I'm here with you? I'm supposed to be in class tomorrow!" I realized half-way through my singing lesson.

"Jack, relax. I called the Dean and he shipped over your books and assignments from your classes for the week. He promised to send your assignments every week so you wouldn't fall behind," Tristan said calmly. "May we continue?"

"Of course."

For the next few hours, Tristan and I explored the realm of music. He would compose short songs for me to practice my scales on. Then he would critique me and we'd try the song again. I'd improved so much in the past few weeks that I'd begun to sing duets with Tristan. Every time we'd sing a duet, I'd feel so incompetent. My voice was no match for his.

"That's it for today. Well done, well done _ma belle_! You are improving greatly!" Tristan praised. "Time for dinner."

"What are you going to make? Spaghetti? Meatloaf? Stroganoff?" I asked. His dinners were always a surprise and delicious.

"Go into your parlor and work on your first assignment. It should be there on the table. It's something about my great-grandfather I think. Are you taking a class on him?!" Tristan asked jokingly.

"No! It's probably an assignment from my literature class. Right now we're reading The Phantom of the Opera so obviously I'm going to be writing about him! I'll need your help though!"

"Of course. Now go. Shoo! I need to make dinner!"

I took my sweet time getting out of the kitchen, peeking more than once into the pot on the stove. When I finally made it out of the kitchen, I walked down to the parlor. I had moved my desk in there, and Tristan had given me pens, pencils, and paper. My assignment was sitting right there on top for me with a note on top that read,

Don't trust those you're close to.

You will only get hurt.

~votre EnneMi

I was puzzled by the note, especially the signing. Votre ennemi. What could that mean? I wasn't close to anyone in France besides Tristan. Could Tristan be hiding something from me?

I was musing about the note at dinner and Tristan could tell that my mind was not on the food.

"What's wrong? You're not eating," Tristan queried.

"It's nothing, just part of my homework assignment."

"Can I help?" Tristan was too kind. He was always asking if he could help.

"I might ask you later. Right now, I want to see if I can come up with the answer on my own but thank you."

After dinner, (it turned out to be pesto pasta) I went back to the parlor while Tristan cleaned up the kitchen. He was very precise on how he wanted to have the kitchen set up so he did it himself. I was just finishing my assignment when the note came back to mind. _I need to ask him. He knows French obviously!_ I brought the note to the kitchen but he wasn't there. I looked in the library, parlor, and my room with the same outcome. The boat was still on this side of the river so he hadn't gone up to the surface for supplies. The only room left was the forbidden one, HIS.

I plucked up my courage and knocked on the door. When he didn't answer, I knocked again. I could hear movement so I walked in. What I saw frightened me! Tristan was writhing on his bed, soundlessly screaming. I dropped the note and ran to him. I grabbed his wrist and blood oozed onto them. I looked at the underside of his wrist and found two puncture marks. A snake must have bitten him, but how it got in I didn't know. Tristan was almost unconscious from the pain.

"Tristan! Stay with me Tristan! I'm going to get you help." I ran to the parlor and dialed the number for the ambulance. There was no ringtone. Our phone wires had been cut. I ran back to Tristan and found him on the bed, not moving.

"Tristan! Tristan! Come back!" I screamed as I smacked his face. I checked for pulse and found a weak one. His breathing was shallow as well. I tried to think of a way to get him help. Nothing was coming. Our phone lines were cut and we didn't exactly live where I could run outside and scream for help. I didn't have a car to rush him to the Emergency Room. The boat! We had a boat!

I dragged Tristan out the door and into the boat. Then I ran back inside and grabbed a blanket. The outside air was chilly this time of night. I wrapped the blanket around Tristan, picked up the paddles and started rowing across. By the time we reached the opposite shore, my arms were sore and Tristan was barely breathing.

"Stay with me Tristan. You can make it!" I grounded the boat and pulled Tristan out. I tried to carry him like a baby and then like a sack of potatoes. Neither idea worked. I wasn't strong enough. I needed a stretcher or something to drag him with. The paddles and blanket! I wasn't sure how long they'd last but it was worth a shot!

I tied one end of the blanket around the tops of the two poles. Then I tied mini knots with the two bottom corners to the two poles. I laid Tristan on it and started pulling him toward the elevator. _Thank goodness he put that in a few years ago! He would have been dead by the time I got him to the surface if we'd have had to take the Communists' Road!_ I thought.

The blanket's knots had started to untie. As we rode up to the surface, Tristan's breathing slowed even more. How that was possible I don't know. We reached the surface floor with a DING! I hauled Tristan out of the elevator and onto the street where the stretcher fell apart. I caught Tristan's head before it hit the pavement.

"Help! Help me please!" I cried. Some pedestrians came over to see what the matter was. "I need a hospital! He's dying!" I said while gesticulating. One bystander knew enough English to tell the others that Tristan was in trouble and needed medical attention. Four men picked Tristan up and started to carry him to the nearest hospital.

Halfway there, Tristan's breathing stopped. I shouted at the men to stop. They set him down and I felt for a pulse. Nothing. "Oh no," I cried. "Not after all this. I'm not letting you die! Do you hear me, Tristan?! You are not leaving me!" With that said, I started CPR. One of the men that used to be carrying Tristan called the ambulance. I didn't know that until the sirens and lights came around the corner. The sound could wake the dead (which was what I was hoping it would do for Tristan).

They picked him up and laid him in the ambulance. I jumped in beside him. The paramedics started pumping air in and out of his mouth while trying to start his heart back up. The entire ride to the hospital was terrifying.

When we got there, they wheeled Tristan to the Emergency Room while I was forced to wait in the hall outside the door. I waited there for what seemed like days. I'd even begun to sing a song Tristan had composed to help me work on my scales.

When I'd sung the song probably more than a hundred times, a nurse came out and gestured that I could go in to see him. Tristan was lying on the hospital bed, pale. I started crying when I saw him.

"Don't cry, _ma belle_! I'm alright thanks to you," Tristan whispered. I ran over to him and knelt down beside his bed. I grabbed his hand and pressed it to my cheek.

"I thought you were dead! I was so worried, especially since I saw the note."

"What note? I didn't write you a note."

"I know. It wasn't your handwriting. It said something like 'You can't trust those closest to you. They will only hurt you,' signed votre ennemi."

"Votre ennemi means your enemy. The person who set the note must have been the one who placed the snake in my room. I don't believe we're as safe as we thought, my dear," Tristan said gravely. This was not going to end well.


	3. Deja Vu

**Disclaimer: I own only my ideas and my imagination.**

Tristan had just been released from the hospital after a few days of observation. During that time, I had stayed with him in the room since the snake was still on the loose. Before we went home, I had an exterminator go by the house and catch the snake. We found that it was a Cottonmouth or Water Moccasin.

"Those snakes are common in Florida! I remember one used to live under my porch back home! Radcliffe came by and caught it for me," I told Tristan.

"Who's Radcliffe?"

"My ex-boyfriend. He had some ego problems so I broke up with him," I said. "You don't want to meet him."

When we reached home, I helped Tristan into bed and went to phone home. My mom was strict about my calling home every night (morning for her).

"Hey Mom! I just wanted to tell you that Tristan's okay. We just got back from the hospital."

"I'm glad you're both okay! Are you keeping up with your homework?" Mom asked. The mom side was coming out with the homework question.

"Yes I am," I said, laughing. "How's everyone back home?"

"They miss you. Oh! I almost forgot. Radcliffe has left a lot of messages for you. I mean A LOT! You should call him, Sweetie! I think he's still a little hurt that you broke up with him."

"Alright, Mom. I'll call him and see what the matter is. Go back to bed, Mom. I can hear you yawning over the phone! I'll call you tomorrow! Love you!"

"Love you mor-ahhhhhh. I'm going to bed. Have sweet dreams dear!"

"Bye Mom!"

After I had hung up with Mom, I called Radcliffe. I didn't really mind getting him up early.

"Talk to me," Radcliffe said, surprisingly awake.

"Hey. It's Jacqueline. My mom told me that you were calling often. What do you want?" I asked, not so kindly.

"Jackie! Relax! I'm not trying to get back with you! Quite the opposite actually. I wanted to tell you that I'm over you."

"Then why did you keep calling?"

"I wanted to make sure you were really in France. Then I only had to figure out which city. It wasn't too hard. Your new boyfriend told your mom that you would be in Paris, studying with the greatest singer of this generation. I wasn't sure if you were actually with that freak but when you came out of the elevator with him, I knew for sure. Look behind you."

I turned around and screamed. There he was, just staring at me with an amused look.

"You're not happy to see me?" He asked, smiling. "Ah come now. I'm not so hideous, am I?" Radcliffe walked towards me. "I thought you would have been overjoyed that I had saved you from that monster."

"You didn't kill him did you?!" I asked, my heart racing.

"Of course not. I want to make his life miserable, not end it for him. I'm taking you while he watches. In his state, he can't do anything to stop me!" He was next to me by now. I just stared up at him from my desk, frightened out of my wits. Radcliffe leered down at me, grabbed my arm, and hauled me to my feet. He dragged me out of the parlor and into Tristan's room. Radcliffe shoved me against the door to open it and threw me down on the floor. He blocked the door while I retreated towards Tristan.

Thankfully, Tristan hadn't woken up. He was still a little groggy from the anesthesia. I reached up and brushed a stray hair from his face. I knew Radcliffe was insane and would probably do something irrational. I was preparing myself for the worst.

"You think you're going to die, don't you? I'm afraid you won't die right away, my dear. You'll die slowly. That THING will wither away as he watches you die a slow death." Then Radcliffe let out this maniacal laugh. I shriveled back towards Tristan. "You know. It's really quite an ironic story! Do you want to hear it? Of course you do. I bet Tristan does too!" He strode over to us, shook Tristan awake, and grabbed me. He then forced me to sit in a chair facing Tristan.

"The two love birds! Now it's story time! Once upon a time, there was a handsome young Vicomte, a hideous madman, and a beautiful dancer."

I cut in there. "Erik was a genius. He was NOT a madman!" Radcliffe slapped me across the face.

"Please do not interrupt me, Dearie! Back to the story please! The Vicomte and madman both loved the dancer and she loved both of them. Her 'Angel of Music' was her first love. He gave her freedom, her voice, and love. When the dancer found out about his horrible face, she was heartbroken. How could she ever love someone so hideous?

"The Vicomte came back into her life. He was her lovely lover. He was the handsome man she wanted to marry. She loved him but the madman wouldn't have that. He wanted the dancer too.

"The madman devised a plan. He would kidnap the dancer so she would have to marry him. Well the Vicomte bravely faced the man and won the girl. Well, she wouldn't leave with him. She thought he was egotistical and overbearing. She loved the hideous thing.

"The Vicomte was outraged. He had never been refused before for anything! Now he was being refused for someone uglier than him! The Vicomte went back to the world and married a Kristine. He told everyone that she was the dancer. All his life, he held that anger towards the couple beneath the Opera Populaire. He passed that anger down through the generations of his family.

"Now it's my turn to avenge my great-grandfather. Do you see a resemblance between our story, Jackie, and my great-grandfather's? Do you?! You dumped me after you met that freak over there on the bed! I was dumped for him! And look!" Radcliffe said as he trotted over to Tristan. "Don't you absolutely love his face?!" He ripped the flesh mask off to reveal Tristan's deformity. It wasn't as hideous as I had thought it would be. The right side of his face looked like it was inflamed. That was all. There was no massive scar or oozing puss. I reached over to Tristan and gingerly touched his cheek.

"Does that hurt? I don't want to hurt you." I asked Tristan.

"No. It doesn't hurt. I was born like this. All the men born after Erik in our family have had the same face deformation." Tristan was exhausted after those few words.

"Ah! How sweet! You're bonding! Well, not anymore! Jackie, get up! Come here!" I walked back to my chair. "Sit down!" I did as Radcliffe instructed. He tied my hands behind the chair and then took out a knife. He started sliding the side down my face. I didn't back away.

"How does that feel? Do you like it?" He laughed as he flipped the blade over to cut a fine line down my cheek. I tried not to cry. I could hear Tristan growling.

"Get away from her! Your fight's with me, not her! Let her go!" Tristan said quietly as he got out of bed. He was still weak.

Radcliffe laughed. "You think you can fight me? Really? Come on! You're weak from the anesthesia. I am quite healthy. Come now!"

"I said let her go."

"Alright, fiend. Let's fight." The two men came together in the middle of the room, right in front of me.

"Stop! Stop! Don't fight! Radcliffe, go away and Tristan, get back in bed! Stop!" I shouted at them. Of course my shouting did nothing whatsoever. They kept fighting. Tristan was losing terribly. Radcliffe almost had a choke hold on him. I was so nervous for Tristan that I started singing the practice song that I'd been singing in the hallway of the hospital. As my voice got stronger, the two started slowing down their fight. They looked over at me in amazement.

I kept singing so they wouldn't start back up. I sang until my throat hurt. Radcliffe came over and untied me silently. Tristan got back in bed. I just stood there in awe. They'd stopped because of my voice! Tristan must have been a really good teacher!

"Goodbye, my dear," Radcliffe said after he kissed my cheek. "You're very lucky to have her," He told Tristan.

"I know."

Radcliffe left the way he came (I don't know how that was). I just stood there in Tristan's room in shock until Tristan _humph_-ed. I ran over to him and hugged him.

"I thought you were going to die! Don't you ever do that again!" I scolded.

"Did you really dump him after you met me?" Tristan asked.

"Yes," I said, startled. "You were more like the man I wanted to marry than Radcliffe was. You're also saner than he is apparently."

"Are you frightened by my face?" Tristan asked.

"No. I actually like it."

"No really. What do you think about my face?"

"I'm serious. I like your face the way it is. It's more YOU than your flesh mask is," I told him.

"Would you marry me if I had a perfect face?"

"No."

"Why not?!" He asked, hurt.

"I wouldn't marry you with a perfect face because that's not you. I want to marry you, not your face."

"Well if that's the case…" Tristan got out of bed and onto one knee with some difficulty. "Would you marry me Jacqueline Elaine Tenbrook?" He asked as he pulled out a beautiful diamond and sapphire ring.

"Of course I will Tristan…I don't know your last name."

"Daae. Erik took Christine's last name instead of her taking his. He didn't know what it was."

"Then yes I will Tristan Daae! For ever and always!" Tristan had the biggest smile on his face. Then I kissed him on the lips and then his right cheek.

"Wow. You must really love that cheek!" Tristan laughed.

"Yes I do. That's the only reason why I'm marrying you!" I joked.

Tristan smiled and my heart melted.


	4. Friend or Foe?

**Disclaimer: I own only my ideas and my imagination.**

The next few months were spent planning the wedding. Tristan gradually returned to his normal vibrant self and I fell more and more in love with him. One morning, Tristan was nowhere to be seen. I didn't think anything more of it until I found the note.

Remember these words:

your most beloved friend could be

your most fearful enemy.

~ votre EnneMi

"Who's Votre Ennemi if it wasn't Radcliffe? Tristan! Where are you?! Tristan! Tristan!" I screamed. I knew he wasn't in the house but I was frantic. The boat was gone and I had no other means of transportation. I finally stopped screaming and trying to find Tristan. I sobbed as I thought of the most horrible things Tristan could be going through. I collapsed against the wall and my legs gave way underneath me. "Tristan, come back. Please come back," I whispered. My throat hurt too much to scream again.

A little while later, the front door opened. I didn't move. If it was Tristan, I didn't have the strength to run to him. If it was Votre Ennemi, I didn't want to run straight to his killing arms.

"Hello? Jacksters? Where are you?" I recognized the sound of my best friend's voice.

"Gwen! I'm in the hallway," I tried to shout.

"What happened to you?! Where's this fiancé that you told me about?"

"He's gone. I think someone called Votre Ennemi kidnapped him," I told her, getting scared all over again.

"No! I bet he just went to the store to get food or something," Gwen said.

"Tristan always leaves a note when he goes away. When I got up this morning, he wasn't here and there wasn't a note. I'm scared Gwen!"

"There there, Jack. It's alright. Why don't we go look for it? Sorry, him?" Gwen suggested. Something didn't feel right. Gwen had just called Tristan _**it.**_ Why would she degrade him like that? She didn't even know him!

"I don't think we should. You can go if you want to. I'm going to wait and see if he comes back home," I said warily.

"That's not such a good idea. What if he's hurt somewhere? What if he really is kidnapped and the person has him tied up in a closet in the Opera Populaire? We need to go find him!" Gwen was being too adamant about looking for him. She even gave a specific place where Tristan could be hidden. If you were just guessing where someone would be, you wouldn't come up with a specific place.

"I need to go to the bathroom. Why don't you wait outside for me? I'll be right there," I told Gwen. I needed some time to think alone.

"Are there windows in your bathroom?" Gwen asked.

"No. Christine Daae was originally kept there by Erik. He didn't want to have any way for her to escape," I replied. I was seriously freaking out now.

"Alright. I'll be outside."

I had to stop myself from running to the bathroom. The note was said that those most loved by you could sometimes be your most fearful enemy. Was that true about Gwen? Why were the letters E and M in EnneMi capitalized? If I had ever needed Tristan's help, it was now!

"Think! Think! Think!" I told myself as I paced the bathroom floor. Suddenly I heard my bedroom door open softly. I stopped pacing and listened. I could hear someone breathing on the other side of the bathroom door. Then someone knocked.

"I'll be out in a minute!" I cried. The footsteps retreated. I knew I didn't have much time before Gwen would come back. By now, I knew she had kidnapped Tristan. All the signs pointed to it.

I had no good plan. I couldn't run away because I was on an underground island with no boat and Gwen was most likely guarding the door. The only other option would be to let Gwen kidnap me as well so she'd take me to Tristan. With that in mind, I stepped out of the bathroom and into the waiting arms of some very strong men. They put a cloth to my nose and I blacked out.

I woke up in a stark cell with my hands and feet bound. Tristan was nowhere to be seen. I was through with freaking out so I just sat there. After a while, I started pounding out rhythms with my feet.

"_Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will never pass away. Mark 13:31,"_ I sang.

"Will you please shut up?! I can't stand it when you sing Bible verses!" Gwen stomped into the cell with some papers in her hand.

"You used to like it. You used to sing along. What happened to you?! Where's Tristan?!"

"Don't worry your pretty little head off. He's fine for now. If you cooperate, his situation will brighten. If not, it will get very bleak for both of you. Now, let's get started." Gwen walked over to a notch in the wall. The notch ejected a keyboard which Gwen typed a password into. A table and chair came up out of the ground and a pedestal rose underneath me. Gwen sat down in the chair and splayed the papers over the table.

I glanced at the papers and saw different pictures of me in Paris and in Florida where I lived. Apparently Tristan and I had been spied upon.

"Why did you spy on me?" I asked.

Gwen whipped the papers away. "You're sneaky, you!" she said in her baby voice. She always did that when she was angry. "I wanted to make sure you weren't being tortured by that horrendous thing that you're marrying. Ick! You're apparently in good health so now I don't have to worry!" She was still babying me.

"Can I see him now?" I was getting pretty annoyed and I wanted Tristan's help with the note. I had smuggled it in my pocket.

"You know what. I'm feeling nice. I'll let you see him for a few minutes." Gwen came over and hauled me to my feet.

"Um. My feet are still tied. How am I supposed to walk?" I questioned. I was hoping to make her angry so she'd accidentally spill some information.

"You're not walking to his cell."

"Oh? Then how am I getting there if you'd be so kind?" I probed.

"You're being lifted, silly goose! Oh! Don't scream at all during your flight. You'd ruin the experience!" Gwen opened the door and had the guard standing there lift me up. We walked out of the cell and into what looked like an artillery bunker. Gwen led Guard and me through a maze of corridors until we reached a net. Guard placed me on the net and stepped back. Gwen whistled and I was hauled up into the air. The ceiling had been opened so that I could pass through.

As I rose above the walls of the bunker, I could see that we were on an island in a zoo or an abandoned zoo. There were a few tigers guarding the entrances and exits, alligators prowling the waters, and unknown animals in the dense jungle surrounding the bunker. I flew over all of this until I was over a tiger's cage.

The net started lowering me into the cage. I didn't scream even though a giant tiger was stalking underneath me. When I reached the ground, the tiger came over to me.

"Do you value your life, Little One? If so, do not cry out at what I am about to do," the tiger said. He rose onto his haunches and roared. The ground shook as a boulder opened to reveal Tristan. He was bloodied and unconscious. I almost gasped but remembered the tiger's warning in time.

"Is he…dead?" I whispered.

"No but he soon will be if those fiends come back." The tiger leaned down close to my ear. "What I am about to tell you is private information between you, me, and Tristan. I am a Tiger. I came to your world from Oz with the Wizard. Now, those brutes have been trying to, how shall I say this? They've been trying to coerce Tristan into telling them who Erik's Master is. They want to kill him after they learn his secret of song. Erik's Master is me. My name is Baronne. I didn't teach Erik to sing. He had a wonderful voice on his own. I merely made sure that he didn't expose himself or me. When Christine came into the picture, I left. I didn't want her to know about me and I wanted Erik to be happy for once."

"So you were the one who left the notes! That's why E and M are capitalized. They're initials!" I exclaimed quietly.

"Yes. With that said, we need to get him out of here!" Baronne whispered.

"What do you suggest we do?! We're all locked in a cage in the middle of an alligator-infested lake with criminals all around us with guns! It's not the best place to be stuck in!" I whispered.

"Patience, Little One. The boulder is our way out. Please bring Tristan over to me and place him astride me. I will carry him."

As I started to pick Tristan up, he became conscious. He groaned and then passed out. He was in really bad shape! I dragged him over to Baronne and laid him on top of him. Baronne padded softly over to the boulder and nudged a crack with his muzzle. The boulder opened wider and uncovered a staircase. The stairs quickly sloped down and around a corner. There were no lights.

"Do you trust me, Little One?"

"Yes. I just want to get out of here!" I whispered. Baronne stepped into the staircase and disappeared. I'm not talking about he turned a corner and I couldn't see him anymore. I'm talking about really disappearing. As in not there anymore! I gasped. As soon as I realized what I had just done, the ground started to rumble and split open. I jumped onto the staircase and into a forest.

Baronne was waiting for me with Tristan leaning up against a tree. A stream was gurgling nearby and a castle was up on a hill in the distance.

"Where are we?" I asked as I looked around in amazement. This place was wonderful! The trees were old willows that let the sunlight in and the ground was covered with soft green moss. The stream was baby blue, reflecting the beautiful sky above with its few clouds. A slight breeze moved through the paradise, brushing Tristan's hair back from his forehead and displaying a long gash.

"Oh no! We need to clean him up right now and stop the blood flow or he will die!" I exclaimed as I rushed over to him. "Baronne, please help me get him over to the stream!"

As we cleaned Tristan up, Baronne told me about Oz, where we had landed. Apparently, Shell Thropp was on the throne of Oz, claiming to be doing the Unnamed God's bidding. No one believed him though. The castle on the hill was Kiamo Ko, the home of Prince Fiyero and later on, Elphaba Thropp.

"We will be headed there shortly," Baronne stated. We bandaged Tristan's wounds with parts of my clothes and the nimble willow branches and started up the hill to Kiamo Ko.

"We're definitely not in Paris anymore," I said jokingly. Baronne didn't laugh.


	5. Kiamo Ko

**Disclaimer: I own only my ideas and my imagination.**

"Uhhhhhhh. My head's throbbing!" Tristan moaned as he sat up. "Oooo! Bad idea!" and he fell back on the bed. He looked around at the stonework of the circular room he was in. "_Very medieval looking_," he thought. "_Wait. I was in a pitch black cell just a minute ago! They must have moved me so the 'interrogators' could see me better,"_ he thought ruefully. Just then, the Tiger came in.

"I am pleased to see you have finally decided to join the living once more, my Dear Fellow," Baronne purred.

"Tiger, I have no time for your games. Are the interrogators taking a break… _for once?_ I need to get back to Jack. She'll be scared out of her mind! They wouldn't let me leave a note or anything!" Tristan said nervously, his voice getting louder and louder. " I—I—They—and then—She's—OW! Why'd you throw a rock at my head, Tiger?!"

"I didn't, Dear Fellow. She did."

Tristan looked toward the door, rubbing his head. There in the doorway was what he swore had to be an angel. She was garbed in an iridescent pearl gown and tied around her waist was a cool green sash. Her head was adorned with a slim silver band that boasted a small teardrop of diamond in the middle of the forehead. Her whole essence glowed with the sun's dying light.

"Jack?" He said at last.

"Stop staring at me like that!" I blushed. "I found the outfit in the Princess's closet. Nanny told me where to go and that she wanted more pepper with her toast. I can't believe she's still alive! That woman was ancient when she came here and who knows how many years have passed?!" I said laughing. "Tristan really! I don't look that good! Stop drooling and we'll go get you some new clothes. You wouldn't believe Fiyero's closet!" I exclaimed as I helped Tristan up and into the hallway.

"Please talk so I know you're alright!" I exclaimed after we had walked for a few minutes in an awkward silence.

"You're stunning, gorgeous, beaut-"

"Enough with the compliments!" I laughed. "Let's talk about something else."

"Ok. Let's start with where we are! I still have no idea where I am," Tristan commented.

"Well, we're in Oz, specifically in Kiamo Ko. Have you read Wicked: The Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West?"

"No. I mainly read older books."

"Wicked is the story of Elphaba Thropp and her life. She was also known as the Wicked Witch of the West. We are residing in her boyfriend's palace. Isn't it magnificent?! I'll introduce you to Nanny after you change. Let me warn you though. With your flesh mask on, you look an awful lot like Liir, Elphie's son. She might boss you around like she used to with the real Liir."

"That doesn't bother me. I have a thing for elderly people. I absolutely loved my great-grandfather! Erik was really an amazing man. He was a little psycho when he met Christine but once she married him, he settled down."

"Here we are! The Royal Closet! To your left is the Pants section, to your right is the Shirts section, and ahead is the Accessory section such as crowns, cufflinks, and much more!"

"Whoa! Let's go to the Pants first. Lead the way, my Lady!" Tristan said faux-regally.

For the next few hours, we wandered through the closet looking for something somewhat modern and Tristan's style. When we had finally found an outfit somewhat reasonable, we went to meet Nanny.

"Liir Thropp where have you been all these years you lazy bum?! I was starting to wonder if you'd died yet. Is your good-for-nothing uncle still on the throne?" Nanny lectured Tristan. Turning to Jack she said," Nessarose! You were dead a few years ago. Leave you filthy ghost and never come back! I don't have time for delusions!"

"I'll be back with your toast, Nanny," I replied smiling. After I had left the room, Nanny turned to Tristan. (I learned this after the fact.)

"I know you're not Liir and I know she's not my Nessarose. The Tiger told me who you really are. Now, you will tell the girl to make a five-course meal. I don't care if it tastes good I just want her out of the room for a while." Once Tristan had done that, Nanny resumed.

"You are on the run from your fiancé's best friend and her henchmen, correct? Of course it's correct. On my nightstand you will find a large book. Open it to page 1463. When you are ready to go home, read the entire page. The words now do not make sense. Don't worry. When you need them, they will reveal themselves." Nanny's breathing was becoming shallow. "One-more-thing. Never leave the girl's side. She-will-die-if she meets-Sssssshhhhhheeeeelllllll." With that, Nanny died.

"Nanny? Nanny?! NANNY! Wake up! What do you mean Jack will die if she meets Shell?! Nanny answer me!" Tristan pleaded.

I had heard the commotion and so had Baronne. I ran into the room, as did Baronne, and halted. Tristan was holding Nanny and crying. Baronne went over and softly smacked his paw on Tristan's leg.

"She's dead Tristan. She was only supposed to live long enough to fulfill her mission and she has. Take the book, some clothes and food, and leave this God-forsaken country forever. Never return lest your offspring should suffer. The portal to your world is fragile as it is. If anyone comes back after you leave, Oz will inhabit Earth and all as you know it will disappear. Go now!"

Tristan scooped up the book, took my hand and packed a basket full of food. Then he went upstairs and packed a suitcase for himself while I packed one for me. We said goodbye to Baronne and started our journey to where? We didn't know.


	6. The Inner Battle

**Disclaimer: I own only my ideas and imagination.**

Tristan was struggling to keep up the brave façade for Jacqueline. They were on the second week of their journey and still the words in the book made no sense. They had wandered through different villages and towns, stopping only to rest at night in fields and barns of obliging farmers. The food supply had run out a week back so they had taken to begging in the streets and scrounging in the woods for food. Jack was asleep while Tristan kept watch.

The smoldering embers cast a glow on Jack's sleeping form. _"How did I get to be so lucky?"_ Tristan thought. _"She's honest, selfless, courageous, and caring. How can I possibly deserve her?!" _ Tristan pondered. _"Thank you God for sending her to me! But God, if we can't get back to France, how will we ever get married? I don't think an Ozian marriage certificate is valid back home… Will we ever get home?" _Tristan prayed. He desperately wanted to go over to Jack and stroke her hair and sooth her fears. _"I should be getting us out of here! Why are we still here?!"_ Tristan thought angrily. He wanted to be Jack's hero, her knight in shining armor. Why was it taking so long for him to live up to his own standards of heroism?!

Tristan stood up and started pacing. It usually helped him to calm down and think through things rationally. After a long while, Tristan sat back down and his eyes stung with desperate tears. He wanted Jacqueline to be safe at home with ordinary people… and as his wife. He crawled over to her sleeping form and just gazed at her. She looked so peaceful. Why couldn't they be at home and in peace? Oz wasn't what they wanted. Her parents were probably going crazy at home without Jack's nightly calls. _"I'm failing everyone! I can't get Jack out of Oz and back home. I can't live up to my own standards. And most importantly, I probably won't be able to marry Jack once we get home since her parents will be so furious with me! God, why's this happening?!"_ Tristan's held-back tears spilled over as he sobbed. _"I can't do this anymore, God! You're going to have to be the strong one here! Can we please go home now? Please… please… please,"_ Tristan sobbed.

I stirred and Tristan tried to soften his sobs but to no avail.

"What's wrong, Tristan? Are you hurt?! What can I do to help?" I cried, wide awake now.

"I'm—so—sorry, _ma belle_! I—haven't—been able to—get us—out of here and I haven't—been—your knight in shining armor! I'm just—frustrated with myself. I'm—so sorry!" Tristan sobbed, his back heaving with every heart-wrenching sob.

"Tristan! You **are **my knight in shining armor! Don't ever doubt that!" I whispered adamantly as I held Tristan's face in my hands. "We need to stay away from the Emerald City and Shell and we'll be fine." I paused, choosing my next words. "We could get married here just in case we can't get back home," I said cautiously.

"We will get home!" Tristan interjected.

"I know we will _monsieur_. I'm just saying that we could get married here and then get a marriage certificate back home. We don't know how long we'll be here so I'd like to be married to you for that duration of time!" I smilingly stated.

"Whatever you wish, _ma belle_. If we are still here in two weeks, I promise that we will get married here," Tristan swore. Just then, a twig snapped just beyond the tree-line near where they were sitting in a field. Tristan jumped up and grabbed my hand. My heart started to pulse faster and faster.

"Who goes there?!" Tristan authoritatively inquired.

"It's just me, my Dear Fellow. I bring a message from Emperor Shell. Shell, Emperor of Oz and its surrounding lands, has commanded Tristan Daae, descendant of Erik and Christine Daae, and Jacqueline Tenbrook, daughter of Elaine and Landon Tenbrook to come with all haste to his palace in the Emerald City for an audience with him. He promises that he will not harm either of you while you are in the city." Baronne growled. "I don't trust him and neither should you. Please be wary of everything inside the city and that monster's palace. Look for escape routes and anything that could help you get away. Take everything with you but hide the book under some of your clothes. Shell will take it if he sees it. Godspeed to you." And with that, Baronne was gone.

"I guess we're going right into the belly of the beast. I promise I will stop at nothing to protect you from that fiend. I love you, Jacqueline!" Tristan whispered. He doused what was left of the fire, gathered their things, and took my hand. "Let's get this over with." We were both thinking about whether or not we would make it home alive as we strode toward the Emerald City…and possibly our doom.


	7. In The Emerald Palace

**Disclaimer: I own only my ideas and imagination.**

The entire journey had been harrowing. As Tristan and I had journeyed closer to the Emerald City, the villagers had become more and more hostile towards strangers. The fields and forests had disappeared, replaced by buildings and palaces. Tristan and I had taken to sleeping in taverns and alleyways. Every article of clothing except for one outfit each was dirty. We were saving our best clothes for our meeting with Shell.

When we had finally reached the Emerald City, Tristan and I changed into our best clothes. As we cautiously walked through the jostling crowds of the city, Tristan mentally mapped out escape routes. There weren't many alleys, just boulevards and avenues. Occasionally, there was a smaller street that ran next to a canal. We couldn't find any suitable hiding places either. This city was all about seeing and being seen. Tristan took my hand and pulled me gently through the crowded streets.

After a few hours, we still hadn't found a way to the palace even though we could see it plainly as it jutted across the sky. Tristan had attempted to ask directions from many people on the street, but they had all ignored him or shoved some product in his face. After Tristan had given up, I strode up to a teenage girl and asked her where to find Shell.

"Ya mean ya don't know?!" she asked as she smacked her gum. "He lives straight up this road heerah. Tahn right at this next road befah you go to the Palace dough. Rent a cahriage 'cuz he only lets in rich snooty people with cahriages. Believe me. I've tried to get in befah."

"Thank you so much!" I replied. I took Tristan to the stable and we rented the cheapest carriage. The only way we had been able to get it was through selling my shawl.

As we made our way to the palace, Tristan kept mentally mapping out escape routes. I on the other hand was thinking about who Shell really was. As we had traveled through the different towns, I had picked up different opinions of Shell. Some said he was a torturous fake. Others said he was a saint sent from the Unknown God to save their country. While others thought he was a puppet on strings while the Royal Advisor was the one calling the shots. I didn't know what to believe.

As we neared the palace gates, I felt Tristan stiffen beside me. I tenderly pressed his hand. He was so protective the 'bubble of protection' was almost palpable.

"Don't let go of my hand, Jacqueline. I don't want you to fall prey to this unknown man. Do you have the book?" Tristan inquired.

"Yes, dear. It's at the bottom of my suitcase. Remember, page 1463."

The gatekeeper motioned for us to halt. "What business do you have here?" he questioned.

"Tristan Daae and Jacqueline Tenbrook to see his highness, the Emperor Shell," our driver stated.

"Very well. Creole and Shune will show you to the Audience Chamber. Driver, follow the yellow brick road to the stable. Move along!"

Tristan and I gingerly stepped out of the carriage with our suitcases in hand. "You may not take those into the chamber. Leave them in the carriage," Creole said. He and Shune were big men. Muscular to the extreme, at least eight feet in height, and the deepest voices you ever heard. We stowed our luggage in the back of the carriage and warily followed the two men into the palace.

We followed a blue brick road to the center of the palace and then a green brick road to the Audience Chamber. These people liked colored brick! We waited patiently for his highness to appear. We waited… and waited… and waited. I sat down on a plush chair while Tristan skulked around the edge of the circular room. I presumed he was looking for an escape route until I tried to ask him to sit down and he shushed me.

"What—"

"Shush!" I waited for him to complete his round about the room. Tristan stopped abruptly next to a painting on the wall near the door we came in. He peered at it from every angle as if he was looking for flaws in the workmanship. He finally paused by one of the corners.

"Tristan. What in the world are you doing?!"

"One second." He tapped the painting lightly so that it bounced off of the wall just a minute bit. "Aha! Found it!"

"Found what, Tristan?!" I was getting frustrated. He wasn't telling me what was going on!

"I found the reason why we're stuck in here while we wait for Shell. There's a hidden bug underneath this painting. They're waiting to introduce us to Shell until they find out if we're a threat or not," Tristan said. "Please take us to see Shell now," he spoke into the recorder.

"Very good!" said a man from behind one of the chairs, clapping. "You've figured it out. Welcome to the Emerald Palace. I am Shell as you probably guessed. I called you here to discuss a dilemma of mine," he stated as he neared me.

"You will not touch her, Shell. She's not here for you," Tristan growled as he crouched in a feline-looking pose. "Get away from her now!"

"Oh Tristan! I'm not going to harm her you see. I just wanted to get to know her better… How old are you, doll?" Shell asked, creepily if I do say so myself!

"I turned nineteen three weeks ago. Please stand further away from me. You're invading my personal bubble." Shell had sat down next to me on the large chair.

"You're so impolite, but I will overlook it for now. How old is your fiancée?" Shell questioned.

"I'm twenty, thank you. Please address me when you are talking about me," Tristan whispered, barely masking his anger at Shell's being so close to me.

"Please, Tristan. I could kill you if I wanted to. Be polite. Now dear, please come with me," Shell commanded, holding out his hand to me. I stood up without his help and went to Tristan. I grasped his hand in both of mine. I was sure he could feel my heart beating rapidly because he caressed my hand with his thumb.

"Come along." We followed Shell through passageways throughout the entire palace, up colored brick stairs and finally to a bedroom. "Make yourselves at home. I'll be meeting with you each separately sometime today. I'll meet with Jacqueline first. Get freshened up. There are clothes in the dresser and your luggage is in the wardrobe. I'll be back in about an hour."

After Shell had gone, Tristan sank onto the bed. "Whoo," he breathed. "I can't take the suspense. I don't want that man anywhere near you alone! He had the crazed look of a man controlled by lust. Please tell me you'll be careful when he meets with you!" he pleaded, sitting up and gazing into my eyes with his soul-piercing eyes.

"I promise. Please don't kill him unless absolutely necessary," I begged as I sat down next to him. "I want you alive when I marry you!" I smiled. Then I leaned over and kissed his cheek first and then his lips. "You're worth a lot more to me alive!" I stood up and walked over to the dresser. I opened up my suitcase to get my amenities and found that the book was missing. "Tristan! The book's gone!"

"What?!" asked Tristan, walking quickly over to me. He took my suitcase from me and dumped the contents onto the bed. He got his suitcase and also dumped its contents onto the bed with mine. We rifled through them again and again but to no avail. The book just wasn't there.

"I bet Shell had his men grab it! Baronne said he wanted the book! Now how are we going to get home?!" I wailed. I collapsed into Tristan's arms, crying. I had been holding it in for so long. Ever since he had been kidnapped up until now, I had tried to be strong. I hadn't wanted to crack in front of him since I knew he was beating himself up on his own.

I felt Tristan slide down the wall with me in his arms, stroking my hair. "I'm here, _ma belle_. We'll get through this," Tristan whispered into my hair. I held onto his arms that encircled me.

"I'm so sorry, Tristan! I didn't—mean to—crumble in front of you! I know—how much you—wanted us to be—out of here by now! I—just can't take it anymore!" I sobbed. Then I realized something. I clutched Tristan's arm with a renewed vigor, probably not unlike how Christine supposedly must have grasped Raoul's arm when she thought of going back to Erik's lair. "Don't let me go in with him alone!" I nearly screamed. "_He'll take me I know… Masquerade! Paper faces on parade!... Think of me, think of me fondly…_" I sang, staring wide eyed and unseeing at the wall.

"_Ma belle_! Come back to me here, dearest! I'm right here," Tristan panted. He was getting really scared, I could feel it but I just couldn't stop myself.

"He'll do things I can't imagine… torture, coercion, something worse. Tristan, don't leave me! Be like Erik now and be in the walls, all around me, something! Don't let me go with him alone!"

Tristan didn't know what to do.Jack had never acted like this before. _God! You see us here in this other world. Please give me the words to say to Jack! She's scared out of her mind! Please be with us now!_

"Dearest. My dear, dear Jacqueline. You're not alone with that fiend. You know our Father will always be with you. He won't let you go through this alone. Be still and know that He is God, Jack. Be still… be still… be still…" Tristan whispered.

I drifted off into a fitful sleep where dreams of the things that would go on in that meeting drifted through. A few times I startled myself into consciousness but I went back to sleep because I saw Tristan finally sleeping. During one of the more peaceful moments of sleep, I awoke to the sound of someone knocking on the door. Tristan was already halfway to the door by the time I stood up. He opened the door and my worst nightmare came true. There in the threshold stood Shell.

"Now where to begin?" Shell thought out loud.

"How about letting us go and giving us the book back that you so rudely stole?!" I hotly suggested from my place, tied up in a chair!

"No, I don't think so. I'll find a use for the book and you of course. Your escort will have to go. I can't marry you with him in the picture!" Shell grinned sardonically. I gasped in horror. This man was even worse than the rumors that were circulating. He had hit me, mocked me, and even touched me where I didn't think he should. I had bit him once and he'd stopped touching me.

"You seem surprised! No doubt Baronne told you that I intended to hurt you. Silly Tiger. No. I won't hurt you physically. Oh no. I'll just rip your heart to shreds until you submit to me, starting with your fiancée!" Shell laughed maniacally.

"Don't touch him! Let him go! I'll be your wife, whatever you want but let Tristan go!" I begged.

"Wow! Such submissiveness so early on. How positively delightful!" He strode over to me. "I'm now going to touch your cheek that I hit. If you bite me, he dies." I had to sit through his caressing my cheek until he'd had his full of it. When he took his hand away, I turned my head towards the chair and scrubbed the feeling of his hand away.

"The guards will take you to see your fiancée for one last moment together! Then he'll be sent on his way."

Creole came and untied me from the chair. He guided me through a series of complex hallways until I was utterly and completely lost. We finally stopped in front of my door. Inside, I found Tristan pacing and muttering what sounded like a prayer. Creole left down the hallway but I suspected he'd be back any moment.

"Tristan! You're alright!" I exclaimed, throwing my arms around him.

"Jack! You're back! Did he hurt you?! We need to get out of here!" Tristan cried.

"Quickly! Before Creole comes back to get me. I have an idea of where Shell put the book. Hurry!" I whispered.

We blindly followed the green brick road back to the center of all of the colored brick paths and went out the blue path. We ended up near the stables. We followed the yellow brick road and found our driver waiting for us with the carriage. In his hand was the book.

"Thank you so much! I knew your swift hands would come to be a help! Please hurry us to the outskirts of the city! Shell will have his men looking for us by now!" I declared. We were almost out of the gate when we spotted guards pursuing us and gaining ground. In a few moments, they would be on us and we'd be dead. I opened the book to page 1463. The words made sense!

_**Read these now at time of peril**_

_**Think of where you want to be**_

_**Put these words to a musical carol**_

_**Something good is "Think of me…"**_

Tristan sang these words and everything swam before my eyes. I was getting dizzy. "Tristan! Where are you?" I gasped as I slipped into unconsciousness. Moments later I was being gently shaken awake.

"Jack! We're home! We're home!" Tristan sobbed. I looked around and saw he was right. We were sitting in the parlor as if we'd never left. We were home!


	8. On The Run

**Disclaimer: I own only my ideas and my imagination.**

I let my gaze wander around the parlor. My "Erik Project" was spread all over the table and floor as I had left it, the lamp was still on from my late night working, and my crackers were still on a plate on the floor. I loved crackers and cheese as a midnight snack.

"Where's the book?" I asked. The giant book that had gotten us home wasn't anywhere near me.

"It started to flame as we traveled back so I let go of it. As soon my hands were no longer in contact with it, the book erupted into a bonfire! The smoke dizzied me and then I was here with you," Tristan replied incredulously. "You should probably call your parents. We've been gone for awhile!"

Tristan left the room while I called my parents. They were surprisingly calm.

"Mom! Dad! I've been gone for at least a month with no contact with you and you weren't worried one bit about me? I find that hard to believe!"

"You weren't gone for a month, dear. You didn't call last night. That was it. We just thought you had had a very full day and forgot to call us. It's alright, honey. You probably dreamed up the entire thing. Go to sleep and call us tomorrow night! Love you, bye!"

"Love you too! Bye!" I hung up the phone and pondered what they had said. I was only gone for one day here but for a month in Oz. Then another thought hit me. Tristan and I had gone to Oz through the boulder in the abandoned zoo that Gwen had trapped us in. If we'd only been gone a day, her goons were probably searching the area for us. They might be barging in here any minute!

"Tristan! Where are you?" I hollered.

"I'm in the kitchen! Something wrong?!"

"We need to leave as soon as we can," I advised. "I just called my parents and they said we had only been gone for a day. That means that Gwen will have her goons looking for us and they might come here any minute!"

Tristan stepped over to me. "Go pack your things. A suitcase should be in the wardrobe. Meet me back here as soon as you're done." With that, we split and went to our rooms. Ten minutes later, we were back in the kitchen. Tristan gave me his suitcase and packed a basket full of food. He carried the basket and his suitcase as he led me into the library.

Tristan quickly strode over to the 'L' section and pulled out The Phantom of the Opera. The bookshelf swung inwards and candelabras in the passageway illuminated. "Quickly now."

We hurried through the doorway and down the corridor. "This looks oddly familiar," I commented.

"This passage leads to Christine Daae's dressing room in the Opera House. Currently there is no one using the dressing room so we won't be intruding on anyone," Tristan replied, urging me even faster. Soon we were coming out of a mirror into the dressing room and hurrying through the numerous hallways of the Opera Populaire. We stopped by the front desk and rang the bell. The concierge came forward and Tristan had him call us a cab.

The cab came in due time but Tristan was already on edge. He threw the bags in the trunk and joined me in the backseat. He instructed the driver to take us to the De Chagny estate as quickly as possible.

"Do you mean we're going to the relatives of my ex-boyfriend Radcliffe?! Are you insane?! I don't think your ancestors and his got on too well! Your great-grandfather wasn't exactly the Vicomte's best friend!" I exclaimed.

"Relax, Jack," he said with a smile. "The current Vicomte is quite a friend of mine. Only Radcliffe has a resentment of my family."

We arrived at the estate in short order. The Vicomte came out to greet us as we unloaded our bags.

_"Good evening, my friend! It's been too long since our last meeting! I missed you last night at _Le Prophet_ at the Opera Populaire! Where were you? I forget my manners. Please come in!"_ the Vicomte exclaimed in French.

"He says that he missed me at _Le Prophet_ last night and to come in. Let me make your acquaintance! Monsieur Pierre, the Vicomte de Chagny may I present Jacqueline Tenbrook, my fiancée?"

"Pleased to meet you, mademoiselle! I have looked forward to making your acquaintance ever since Tristan told me about you! Is your voice as good as he says it is?" Pierre asked.

"I don't think so, monsieur," I blushed, looking down at my hands. "Tristan has a habit of exaggerating things."

"Well, you'll have to prove it tonight! I have a grand piano in the parlor. Tristan, you will play and Jacqueline will sing! But that can wait. Dinner is ready and waiting!"

After dinner, Tristan and I sang a duet that he had written. It was all about the joys and sorrows of love won and lost. It was about the freedom found in music and the bondage of silence. By the final note, Tristan, Pierre, and I were all in tears.

"That was beautiful! Bravo! Bravo!" Pierre exclaimed, jumping to his feet as he clapped. Tristan took my hand and he bowed while I curtsied. "You must sing at the Opera House! The cast of _Don Juan _is looking for a new leading soprano and tenor! You both should audition! I will be watching the headlines to see if you make it!" Pierre suggested. Tristan looked to me.

"I don't know if they'll take an American who doesn't know one word of French, but I'll audition! Tristan?" I looked to him, begging him with my eyes to audition with me.

"I guess I'll audition as well. What can it hurt?" he smiled. Then he turned to Pierre. "Pierre, can we stay here tonight? Some kidnappers are most likely looking for us and they probably think we're at home. We'll only be here tonight."

"Of course, my friend! Stay as long as you like! I'll have Marguerite show Jacqueline to her room." Pierre went over to an intercom and held down a button. "Meg, dear? Are you home?"

"I just got back from the market. Is there something you need, darling?" a voice replied.

"Could you come to the parlor? Tristan and his fiancée are here. Jacqueline needs to be shown her room."

"I'll be right there." A few minutes later, a petite blonde woman, not much older than me, appeared in the doorway.

"Hello! I'm Meg de Chagny. My husband has probably introduced me as Marguerite! Silly man! He knows that I don't like to be called by my full name. It's too long and fancy!" Meg said smiling as she held out her hand. I shook her hand and then followed her up the marble staircase to my room for the night.

"The men will probably be talking long into the night so we might as well go to the Opera House. There's another performance of _Le Prophet_ tonight if you'd like to go," Meg suggested.

"I'd love to, but it's probably not such a good idea to go back to the Opera House. Some kidnappers are after us and they're probably lying in wait all around the Opera Populaire at the moment. Why don't we play a card game?" I proposed.

"Sure! I'll call some of the servants and we can play Apples to Apples! It's my favorite game! Do you like it?"

"I love that game! I didn't know you had that game in France!" I exclaimed.

"I'll go get it while you unpack. The bathroom is through the door there and the wardrobe is for your use. I'll be right back!" And with that, Meg was gone.

_That girl never stays still for a second!_ I thought. The room was vast! There was enough room to run around in a gigantic circle without hitting anything! The bed had a "roof" and thick drapes pulled back at the corners. There was a small table with two chairs across from the bed, probably thirty feet away! The wardrobe was in a corner opposite the door, and the door leading to the bathroom was in the other corner. I walked over to the wardrobe and set my suitcase inside. _Whoa! The rich in France still live like they did a hundred- something years ago! Now I know what Raoul's life must have been like as a boy. No wonder he seemed like a spoiled brat!_

I realized I was still in my dress from my "meeting" with Shell. I didn't want to burn it but Shell had touched it! I quickly changed into a royal purple three-quarter sleeve shirt and dark blue jeans. I put my hair up into a ponytail and slid my feet into some black flats. Soon, Meg returned with some puff pastries and the game! For the rest of the night, Meg, myself, and three of her servants played Apples to Apples and laughed so hard our sides hurt! It was a wonderful reprieve from the apprehensive situation I was in!


	9. Wedding Day

**Disclaimer: I own only my ideas and my imagination.**

_Song floated through the air, surrounding me, enticing me to search for my Angel. I heard him tell me he loved me, that I was his Angel. Me! I was my Angel's love! My heart pounded for joy. I sang and sang with my Angel. I danced and begged my Angel to come out and show me who he was. He finally relented. I was going to see my Angel! He started singing again and the mirror started to open. I was drawn toward mirror and to my Angel. A gloved hand appeared then a porcelain mask, then my Angel! I cried for joy. _

_But as soon as I saw my Angel, he changed into Radcliffe shouting at me, saying I was his always. He shouted that I wasn't in love with that THING, that I was in love with him! Then he turned into Gwen. She started whispering that she would find me and do unspeakable things to me. She said that I shouldn't have trusted her. Then she turned into Tristan. Tristan ran to me but before I could grab him, he collapsed. His face was a mask of terror. Blood gushed out of his chest. He tried to tell me something but he couldn't get it out. I shook him, trying to help him speak. His eyes glazed over and his head lolled back onto the floor. I wanted to die. Where was my Angel?!_

_Someone grabbed me and started shaking my shoulders. "Wake up! Jack, wake up!"_ My eyes opened and there was Tristan. No blood stained his loose white shirt. His eyes weren't glazed over, lifeless. I reached up and wrapped my arms around his neck and sobbed. He sat down and let me cry. I could feel my tears dampen his shirt and skin but I couldn't stop crying. It had all been so real!

I was ashamed. I had wanted my Angel so much and then my enemies showed up and then there was Tristan lying in a pool of his own blood. All through the dream up until Tristan woke me up, I had wanted my Angel back. I still wanted him back. How could I want a dead man over my true Angel?! What kind of horrible fiancée was I?

But then I thought of something. I thought of how I had interacted with Erik. I was acting as Christine! All the singing with the Angel and begging him to show me who he was, all happened with Christine and Erik. I didn't really want Erik! I wasn't a monster! With that knowledge, my sobbing started to slow.

Tristan rubbed my back as I gasped for air. As I sat back, I looked into his worried eyes. Then I wondered how he had found me in the middle of my nightmare.

"How could you hear me when I was having a nightmare when your bedroom is at the opposite side of the house?" I asked.

Tristan looked away sheepishly. "I came to watch you sleep. I've been doing that every night since I met you except when I was Gwen's prisoner. Your peaceful face has always brought some sense of security to me, and it's kept me humble. God gave me more than I could have ever imagined when He gave me you. I love to be reminded of that as I watch you sleep. When you started singing in your sleep, I joined you. Then you started begging me to show you who I was. You smiled so happily for a few moments and then your face turned to sheer terror.

"You started shaking and then you shouted my name over and over. I woke you up as you started to entangle yourself in the sheets. It must have been some horrible nightmare to make you scream like you did." He didn't ask about the nightmare even though he must have been dying to find out what it was. I needed to tell someone about it so I recounted the horrific tale to him. I even shared how ashamed I was about my feelings and then how I thought it through.

"Tristan, I don't want to run. I want to audition. If Gwen and her minions find us, I want to face her head on. She was my best friend ever since we were little. For some reason, she doesn't like you at all. I could tell by the hate in her eyes when I brought you up. If she's lying in wait around the Opera House, we can audition and then talk to her," I proposed.

"That's a very brave plan. But can we get married before we get captured again? I already called your parents and they're flying here tomorrow. I booked a small church for our use as well. Meg can be your attendant if you'd like. Pierre is going to be mine. So can we get married now?" Tristan asked.

I giggled. "Of course. You've already planned it out. How could I say no? Tomorrow we can go get bouquets and boutonnières at a local flower shop. I don't have a dress though. Do you mind if I wear a nice outfit?" I was embarrassed that I wouldn't have a nice wedding dress for my wedding.

"There you are wrong!" Tristan answered with a mischievous glint in his eye. "I'll be right back." He left the room hastily and returned a few minutes later. In his arms was a beautiful old fashioned wedding gown. My eyes must have been the size of saucers and my jaw dropped. It was gorgeous!

"Where did you get that?" I asked once I could breathe again.

"I packed it just in case we needed it while we were on the run. It's Christine's dress."

The gown was exquisite! The embroidery and lace, the crème color, the slight dip of the neckline, the tips of the sleeves that wrapped around the middle finger all were made of the highest quality. I ran my hand along gown in awe. I was going to be married in Christine Daae's wedding dress! The exact one that she had been married to Erik in! I couldn't help but remember the similarities in our stories.

I was kidnapped and brought to my future fiancée. I slept in Christine's room in Erik's house underneath the Opera Populaire. Rich arrogant boys tried to kill the men we loved and take us away with them. We both were given singing lessons by our Angels. I was going to be auditioning and hopefully playing the lead role in _Don Juan_. I couldn't help but think that maybe the _Don Juan_ that I was auditioning for might be very similar to the _Don Juan Triumphant_ that Erik wrote.

As I came back to reality, I could feel my eyelids growing heavier. I begged Tristan to go to sleep and I crawled back into bed. Tristan left the gown on the table and kissed my forehead as he left. Just as I was asleep, morning came.

"Wake up, Sunshine!" I knew that voice without opening my eyes.

"Momma, you're here!"

"Of course I am! Get up! Get up! Your wedding day's here! Oh I can't believe it! You need to shower and dress. We need to get the flowers and –" Good old Mom was scurrying around the room. I couldn't help but smile. I got up and washed. When I came out of the bathroom, Mom had the dress ready for me and the makeup and curling iron in hand. For the next few hours, I endured Mom dressing up my hair and face. I didn't mind though. I was just glad to have her here.

When I was almost finished, I saw the bedroom door open and a head pop through.

"Daddy! You look smashing!" I exclaimed.

"My gorgeous little girl is getting married!" he shouted for the whole house to hear. I giggled. Same old Dad! Dad said he had some business to take care of and he dashed out the door.

As I was standing up and brushing the wrinkles out of my dress, my dad popped in again. In his hands was an elegant crème lace veil to match my dress. He placed it over my head so that it covered my face and hair. Mom placed a petite pearl headband over the top to finish off the look.

My dad took my arm and led me out of the room and down the marble staircase to the entryway. At the foot of the stairs were Pierre and Meg and my fiancée in his elegant old fashioned tuxedo. It looked almost identical to the costume actors wore in the musical depicting Erik's life. He was dashing! Dad gave me to Tristan and we all headed out to the car.

As we headed to the church with my parents, Pierre, and Meg, I couldn't help staring at Tristan. He had opted to wear a porcelain mask instead of his flesh one. I loved it!

"Just in case you're wondering," Tristan whispered, "the mask is my great-grandfather's. Do you like it?"

"I love it!"

Tristan laughed. "I knew you would!"

In no time at all, we had arrived at the church. My dad had also gotten the bouquets and boutonnières when he had gotten the veil. My parents and the De Chagnys went into the church first and Tristan and I followed. Meg was waiting for me at the entrance and Tristan walked down the aisle. An organist played Pachelbel's Canon as Meg walked down the aisle and then I followed. The wedding went by in a wonderful blur. After the pastor pronounced us husband and wife, Tristan lifted my veil. I could clearly see the love emanating from his eyes and I could feel my love for him shooting out of mine. Tristan leaned down and kissed me, our first kiss. I rested my hand on his porcelain mask as he wrapped his hands around my neck.

We parted and I could feel my face light up. Tristan's face mirrored mine. My parents clapped as did the De Chagnys. We walked happily down the aisle out to the car. Only then did I think of Tristan's parents. Where were they? I didn't have the heart to ask in case the thought ruined the blissful day for Tristan. I gazed up at Tristan once more and found he was staring at me. I leaned up to him and kissed him again.

The similarities between the first Daae couple and the newest Daae couple came back to me. The most important similarity in our stories was that we were both married to wonderful deformed Angels of Music.


End file.
